Paint Me
by Angel of Androgyny
Summary: Ah...The life of a starving artist. Full of hard times small wages and SEX?Yaoi MMpairings


Paint Me

The young model held the address written on a piece of stark white paper the time written down was six thirty, thirty minutes later than what the time on his watch said.

He always liked to arrive early to a new gig to really get a feel for the place before taking his clothes off, or whatever else he was required to do at a shoot.

He rang the doorbell to the large flat and waited.

And waited.

…. And waited.

About to give up and call Tony his PR agent and chew him a new one, a scruffy looking male with bedraggled silver hair wearing an overtly large white blouse that was spotted with different colors here and there answered the door.

"…Can I help you?" The man hiccupped.

"Uh… Is this Sesshomaru Tasio's house?" The model asked about ready to chew this clown in front of him a new one.

The man who opened the door looked at the mailbox hanging by the lamp outside his door took out a pair of glasses that had seen better days and squinted at the letters on the mailbox that clearly spelled 'Tasio'.

"Well that says it is. So I suppose yes. This is Sesshomaru Tasio's house. Again I ask. Can I help you with something? Otherwise I'm very busy setting up."

The model's jaw almost fell open.

The man was infuriating!

"Sesshomaru Tasio called my agency looking for a model-"

"Aaand?" The infuriating man interrupted.

The model stomped his boot heeled foot in frustration.

"_I _am that model they assigned for him." The models' teeth were grit and he was grinding them together in order not to punch his would be client. On second thought maybe he would chew out Tony for assigning him crackpot clients like this dead beat in front of him!

"Oh! You're the model? I requested a male-"

"I am male!" The model yelled.

The scruffy man leaned forward glasses on his face again, "Really? You look female in that getup."

The model just scoffed.

"Well come in come in! Were wasting precious time!"

The model shook his head then followed his client into the sparsely furnished flat.

There was a big four poster bed in one corner, a small kitchen area with dishes piled in the sink, a black silk changing screen with a picture of a half naked geisha holding a sword and in front of that a polished mahogany chest rested overflowing with clothes and there was an area sectioned off as the actual studio but instead of a camera their was an easel and paints.

"Your outfit is set out behind the screen. Strip and change into it. Then come out so I can see if it fits you properly."

The model sat down his bag then did as he was told.

He looked at the outfit he was wearing a little skeptically. Not sure if this was really what the man had in mind for him to wear. He put it on as best he could then stepped out from behind the screen to see the man making what looked like last minute arrangements to the set he would pose on.

Clearing his throat to get the mans attention he postured himself so the man could see the entire "outfit". At least he covered up all his important parts.

"Erm… I wasn't sure how to put it on really. It looked like a bunch of stripped clothe to me"

The man turned from his work to look at the model with a skeptical eye.

"Turn a bit." He ordered.

The model turned slightly to the left.

"Some more."

The models backside was exposed now, there wasn't enough fabric to cover it so the scruffy man could see the beginnings of rosy cheeks.

The model was cool and collected all the way up till the man reached down and maneuvered the fabric to where it exposed more of his derriere.

"Perfect!" The man exclaimed turning the model bodily by the shoulders.

"Perfect he says." The model muttered.

The man gave the model a slight tap on his exposed cheeks before going over to the set.

The model yelped glaring at the man,

"What was that for??"

"Couldn't resist."

The model was starting to really contemplate what he'd gotten himself into.

"Don't be shy get over here." The man gestured over to the set made out to look like a throne.

On the set was a slender high backed chair but you couldn't see what it was made of since it was draped in red satin with black strips made of the same material as his outfit thrown strategically on it. A vase of whine red flowers stood next to it on a small wooden end table.

The model walked slowly over to the set, trepidation crawling up his throat. This crackpot was sending him weird vibes. He still wasn't sure what he would be required to do. And that made him frankly, _very_ uneasy.

As he got closer the man patted a wooden stool next to the easel before he could step onto the set.

"Sit here. I almost forgot the most important part!" The man turned from him, his matted silver ponytail falling to his waist.

If brushed it would probably be longer. Was the model passing thought while watching the mysterious man bend down into another chest just like the one that was overflowing with clothes but smaller.

The man straightened back up and walked over to the model with containers of what looked like stage makeup in his big hands.

The makeup in his hands looked so out of place that the model had to hold in a snigger.

"Hold still. Very still or I might poke your eye out." The man instructed.

The model held his breathe as the man applied eyeliner to his eyes then drew what felt like exaggerated tear drops on his face under the right eye in black. Then he took red lipstick and liner and outlined his lips in a doll like design before filling it in with the lipstick.

"There that should do. You're pale enough so I don't have to add any more makeup. Now get on that set and do what you do." The model nodded his head then placed himself on the throne-like set trying to find a comfortable position. He turned this way and that but couldn't find a comfortable spot.

"STOP!" The crazy man said.

"What?" The model asked.

"Stop right there." The man said coming toward him.

The position that the man had told the model to stay in was not the most comfortable or the most flattering. He was sprawled horizontally on the couch butt up and one leg fallen limp on the ground.

"Here just tilt your chin up like this. Ah and grab the rose. Underneath! Don't take it all the way out of the vase!"

The model did as he was told all the while not trying to move the position his body was in too much. He'd done that before at one shoot and had immediately learned not to do that again. The photographer damn near had a heart attack!

After many adjustments the man seemed to be satisfied and went back to his seat on the stool in front of the easel and paints.

The model thought that they were getting to work now when the painters' lips pursed in a frown.

What now! The model thought exasperated.

"Your face." The man answered as if he were reading the model's thoughts.

"Excuse me?" the model asked almost whipping his head around to glare at the obnoxious man.

"There is no expression on it."

"Aaaand?" The model asked.

"I need you to show some facial expression."

"Okay. Okay how 'bout this?" The model gave in, anything to get this started and over with.

"No. Too pinched. Imagine you are about to kiss a lover."

"Kiss a lover?" The model asked bewildered.

"Don't tell me you're a virgin?"

How did this conversation get onto the topic of his sex life?

"That's none of your damn business!"

"Then do it. Act like the rose petals are your lovers lips."

Taking a deep breath the young model closed his eyes and tried to imagine kissing a lover but it'd been a long while and the only lips that came to mind were the pouty ones of his infuriating client.

"No! You're forcing it! Try again." The painter yelled from across the room.

The model tried again only to be yelled at _again._

"I can't believe you're a model and you can't even make a decent facial expression."

"Hey. It was never really required of me before. The other photographers liked my stony stoic expression."

"Well as you can see I am not a photographer and stoic will not do with me. Try again."

The model did but was met with failure in the painter's eyes.

The painter sighed, "I can't believe this. Close your eyes."

"What?"

"Just do it!"

Obediently the model closed his eyes.

He heard fabric rustling and a creak that signified someone had stepped onto the set along with him. Then soft lips pressed against his.

His first reaction was to open his eyes in surprise but the voice of the painter reprimanding him stopped him from doing that.

"Don't open 'em!"

The model reluctantly obeyed and kept his eyelids squeezed tight. After a few moments he started to relax and the painter moved his lips across the models.

"Relax." The painter said in-between kisses.

Slowly the model did but soon curiosity got the best of him and he opened his eyes.

The model gazed into the equally wide-open eyes of the painter. Up close the model saw that the painters eyes were actually a burnished amber color other than the light brown he first thought they were.

Those amber orbs were narrowed on him more than likely angry for him disobeying.

One of the painters hands were planted behind the models head the other on the floor supporting his weight while he depend the kiss. It took all the models' skills at maintaining balance to stay in position on the throne while the painters' lips kneaded his almost desperately. The models' eyes finally closed and a sigh escaped from his now parted lips.

The painter ran his tongue along the models' parted lips but refrained from dipping inside.

"Uhn…" The sound came from the model who broke the rules and moved his hand to the back of the painters' head.

Slowly the painter pulled away while the model's lips were still pursed.

"There." He said taking the models' arm from the back of his head and placing him back in position, "Stay just like that."

The painter went back to his seat in front of the easel and started sketching the boy in front of him.

His model's eyes were set at half-mast lips still pursed and rosy from their kiss.

The model tried to stay focused but his mind kept wandering back to that sudden short kiss he shared with the painter. It was nice and sweet and had his insides turning into Jell-o the more he thought about it. He tried not to think about it and that lasted for about a few seconds until his mind popped right back to it. Finally he just gave up and thought about all that could of happened if the painter had taken it further.

Would he be sprawled out on that four-poster bed by now if they hadn't stopped?

Or would they have even made it all the way over there? This outfit was skimpy enough to all the painter had to do was flip him over and instant gratification.

The young model let his mind wander through all the possibilities and positions he could've ended up in until he'd gotten himself worked up into a flushed frenzy and he didn't know if he'd been laying there for two hours or two minutes.

Time went by just as fast for the painter as he finished sketching and started to apply paint. The vibrant colors flew through his brain and out of his the paint brush onto the canvas until finally the light from the windows faded and darkness crept into the flat and he was forced to get up and light candles.

The model sat patiently while watching the painter methodically light a million or so candles, it seemed like, all around them.

"Why don't you just turn on the lights?" The model asked when the painter bent down and placed a candle by him some of that wild hair falling into the painters face who brushed it away before he lit the candle.

"Candle lights better." The painter answered placing two more candles on the side of the throne where the model's feet rested.

"Why?" The model inquired.

"Electric light is too garish." Was the simple answer from the painter.

After lighting the last candle the painter went back to his seat and started up again. All was silent except for the gentle sound of the painters' brush strokes and the tinkling of the large pitcher of water whenever he threw a soiled brush in the murky depths until suddenly the models stomach grumbled loudly.

The painter looked to the side of the easel a paintbrush in his mouth and an eyebrow arched.

"Sorry." The model said bashfully.

"No its okay. We should probably stop now you're muscles they are getting sore now?" The painter asked.

The model shrugged, "A little. But we can go on-"

"No no! We should stop for today your makeup is getting cakey now. Get up and stretch out. I'll bring a washcloth so you can wipe that off your face." The painter said getting off his stool and stretching out his own muscles then leaving to a little closet like room that must've been the bathroom.

After stretching his arms over his head the model sat back on the throne the right way. His legs crossed and chin resting on his hand that was balanced on one knee.

The painter came back with a damp almost dripping wet blue washcloth and handed it to the model who accepted it gratefully, he was starting to itch. The model scrubbed his face with the washcloth until he felt his face was clean then handed the cloth back to the painter who grinned down at him.

"What?"

"Its not all gone." The painter took the cloth from the models' hand and started scrubbing at the models' face especially around where he drew the exaggerated teardrops. The model had gotten most of it off but not all and had the "raccoon" effect going on around his right eye.

The painter tried to get the rest of the gunk off but found it was in vain.

"You'll need some eye makeup remover for the rest." He said.

"That's okay I have some at home." The model said rising to get behind the screen and get dressed so he could leave.

The painter watched those rosy cheeks disappear behind the screen to be hidden from his view up until next time.

When the model finished changing he walked out from behind the screen to grab his bag and leave out.

"I still think that outfit makes you look too feme for your own good."

"Whatever." The model said passing by the painter. He was mentally debating whether or not he should flip the painter off but decided not to since this guy signed his checks for the moment.

The model reached the door out of the flat and almost to sweet freedom from the insane painter when said painter grabbed his arm and twirled him around to where they were face to face.

Chest to chest.

The painter dipped his head down and pressed the model's lips against his again his glasses were still on so they got caught between their noses, this time when the model sighed he slipped his tongue inside the parted lips for the taste he denied himself earlier.

The model had to wrap his arms around the painters' surprisingly broad shoulders to keep himself from falling to the floor with a jolt of electricity that shot through him when their tongues made contact.

This time the painter didn't stop when his hand buried in the all ready mussed hair. Infact the painter grabbed his slim waist and pulled him closer. Pretty soon the painter would be holding all his weight, the muscles in his legs were definitely turning into mush and wouldn't be able to support him for very long.

Their kiss depend and now the model was up against the door one of the painters' hands braced behind him the other still at his hip pulling him ever closer still until their was no more space between them and their groins were touching.

"Nng…" The model moaned breaking their kiss gasping for air. The painters head was resting on his forehead the hand at his hip traveling upward to the edge of his tight pants then unbuttoning them before unzipping the fly, the painter stuck his cool hand inside to fondle the model.

The models' eyes squeezed shut his head falling against the door with a resounding thud. A broken sound escaping his parted lips.

"By the way what's your name?" The painter asked still holding the model in his hand gently caressing him.

"Hhn?" Was he really asking him this now??

"Your name? What is it?" The painter asked freeing the models now full-blown erection.

All blood immediately fell from his brain leaving him dizzy.

"I-Inuyasha." He managed to get out voice raspy and throat feeling dry.

"Inuyasha?"

The model hissed when the painters calloused fingers brushed past a sensitive spot.

"Who on earth gave you that name??"

The model now known as Inuyasha opened his mouth to respond but nothing came out.

"Never mind I didn't want to know any way." The painter said covering Inuyasha the models' mouth again with his.

What the HELL was going on? Inuyasha's mind screamed. Here he was pressed up against a friggin door with his boss's hand down his pants!

Oh. He definitely didn't feel like a whore.

The painters hand brushed past another sensitive spot and he let out a loud moan which the painter greedily swallowed.

Inuyasha's hips started bucking of their own accord and the painter tunneled his hand squeezing Inuyasha tight and flicking the tip every now and them.

The model saw stars and they exploded into tiny glittering particles when he came into his boss's hand.

When he finally came to somehow one of his legs had become wrapped around the painter and both hands were in the matted hair instead of one.

"Remember this." The painter ordered kissing him once more before letting him go.

Inuyasha zipped and buttoned his pants back up feeling even more hot and bothered than before with the painter watching him with a steamy stare.

Inuyasha nodded his head then opened the flat door still dazed.

"Oh. And Inuyasha!"

The model turned around and Sesshomaru was right behind him.

"Tomorrow." The painter said wrapping Inuyasha's coat more securely around him to hide the wet spot in front of his pants before sending him on his way again.

Inuyasha got in his car still dazed and tingly.

"Tomorrow." He said to himself in the mirror.

Maybe he wouldn't chew Tony out the next time he saw him after all?

* * *

**Okay. Im'ma stop there because this is getting long! Twenty-five Microsoft word pages no one can say _this_ isn't long enough. **

**Leave a review and tell me whatcha thought!**


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